


when the hurly-burly's done (redux)

by huanzhuyulu (RuanChunXian)



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: Angst, Gen, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuanChunXian/pseuds/huanzhuyulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulan returns home after the war with her secret kept. Everything had changed, and yet at the same time, it was also as if nothing had changed at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the hurly-burly's done (redux)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [when the hurly-burly's done](https://archiveofourown.org/works/736315) by [RuanChunXian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuanChunXian/pseuds/RuanChunXian). 



> Back in March 2013, I wrote a [three-sentence fanfiction](736315) for the Three-Sentence Fic-a-thon to the prompt "Mulan, Fa Mulan & Any, the one where Mulan's secret isn't discovered". This is an elaboration of those three sentences.
> 
> Warning: do not expect fluff or Disney-ending.

* * *

_It is said, go too far from home and you will lose your roots. Kill too many people, and you will forget yourself. If you die in battle, your life will sink into the ground like rain and vanish without a trace._

\- from the live-action film, _Hua Mulan_ (2009), starring Vicki Zhao Wei as Mulan

* * *

An actual battle, Mulan found, was vastly different from training. In battle, as much as army education would wish to teach you otherwise, there were little precision and few thought-out plans. There was only chaos, instincts and the desperate hope that your friends were all right, and the pushing back of pain to be felt later when you saw one of them fall.

It was instincts that forced Mulan to point her cannon at the mountain peak, sending an avalanche tumbling down on herself, her comrades and their enemies alike. If she stopped to think, she might be assaulted with doubt whether the cannon would make any impact on the vast, immovable mountain or with the realisation that such an act would kill them all, not just the Huns. She might have hesitated then, and hesitation, even for a moment, was not something that could be afforded.

As the cannon fired, Mulan knew she might have managed to duck from Shan-Yu's sword just now, but the snow would bury them all in a common grave. It did not matter, she thought, she never expected to come home from this war. That she had survived this long surely was the miracle work of her ancestors' blessing (though apparently, through the very unconventional form of Mushu.)

Khan was cantering towards her, and she jumped on the horse's back without thought. The next few moments – or it could have been hours, she didn't know – was a blur of white mixed with the occasional colours that belonged to men and horses. Saving Shang from being hurled into an abyss was a combination of pure dumb luck and Chien-Po's strength. The large boulder at the edge of the cliff, where most of their small company of men managed to gather also saved them from being swept down with the flow of the avalanche.

In the end, somehow, their losses were much smaller in number than Mulan could have dared to imagine. Even Chi-Fu managed to live. Someone more prone to holding grudges than Mulan would have been disappointed, but she could not feel anything less than sheer relief. Any loss was loss enough, and who was to say Chi-Fu's manipulative, petty life was worthless than the men who had died for their country?

It was instinct that told Mulan to advise Shang to not take for granted that the Huns were all really dead, or at least so buried by the snow that they could not dig themselves out of it. Their enemies were nothing but brute strength, and it could not be unwise to make sure they were dead before they head home in celebration. Such carelessness had caused empires to fall before, and history was wont to repeat itself.

Chi-Fu started to sneer and waved off her – or, rather, Ping's advice of caution – but Ping had just saved Shang's life. To Shang, Ping's words had more weight now than that of the conniving official. Then again, perhaps it was always like that. Mulan did not dare think anymore in this direction.

It was fortunate that Shang listened to her, however, because just as they managed to set up camp out of sight, the world seemed to shake with a roar of anger as Shan-Yu and a couple of his men sprouted out of the snow ("Like daisies!" Mushu yelped in her collar.).

If Mulan was scared of the huge figure that towered over her as she shot the cannon earlier in the evening, she was even more terrified now, that under all that snow, they were not at all affected by the cold and the weight and the lack of air, but only seemed to gained more strength from the rest. It was as if the snow had revitalised their energy.

The number of Huns who survived was blessedly few, however, and their army still managed to outnumber them all. It was still a perilous battle when under your feet was snow – hard packed one moment and like shifting sand the next as you moved just a little this way or that way.

It was soon over, though, when the arrogance of Shan-Yu caused him to taunt Shang to his face about his father. It was a sight Mulan was sure she would never forget as long as she lived – Shang let out a roar of rage and in one fell swoop, Shan-Yu's head rolled at the captain's feet, the brutish smirk still visible.

Shang fell down on his knees and there was only his sword, planted into the snow, that kept him from sinking even further – either to the exhaustion of the fight or to the emotional burdens that the fight just triggered. Mulan knew Shang had every right to pride that in one strike of his sword, he had fulfilled his duty in ridding the country of their most dangerous enemy, but also done his filial duty in avenging his father's death. And yet, that was only in theory.

The reality was, there was often no pride to found in war. If there was anything Mulan knew, it was this. There was only duty and loyalty. Both were to be upheld not for personal pride, but because it was the thing to do, no matter how much you stomach churned at the sight of blood dripping from sinews on the lifeless head that now lay within reach, staining the snow like petals of red plum blossoms in the new year.

* * *

The rest of the Huns surrendered soon after seeing their leader fall, and as the sun rose from behind the mountain peak, they who remained mounted their horses or picked up their weary feet to make way towards the capital city.

For Mulan, there was only relief that it was all over. Mushu gushed as loudly as he dared within her collar of the rewards that would come their way, the riches and glories, the recognition he would get…but Mulan tuned most of it out. She would be glad to go home with her identity intact and sink into the backdrop of normal life again. Even now, heading towards the capital seemed to be the most dangerous gamble of her military career (and she thought about the two words with nothing but derision at herself; this was, from the beginning, a feeble plan that only managed to succeed this far because those from far above, much more powerful than her were watching over her). She should have cantered off the opposite direction and be heading home now, and leave Shang and the rest to take the news of victory to the Emperor by themselves.

Shang had insisted, however, that she ride back with them. It was hard to sneak away, and so she had reluctantly directed Khan in the same direction as everyone else.

"I shall report to the Emperor of your merits and heroic deeds," Shang's voice startled Mulan out of her thoughts. "He will be sure to reward you accordingly and grant you a position in the army that befits your talents."

"Talents, Captain?" she asked, with a self-deprecating laugh. "I have no talents, and certainly do not wish for any sort of high position in the army. It is not my place, but I would request you to speak nothing to the Emperor of anything I have done. If anything, all I _have_ done is refuse to follow orders and mess up thought-out tactics, endangering everyone. You will do better to receive the Emperor's grace and rewards for yourself."

"It was your 'mess up', as you say, that defeated the Huns. If you did not save my life, I would be in no position to kill Shan-Yu, so it was all your deeds that give us this moment, Ping. Do not think I don't appreciate it," Shang said, his usual sternness making way for gratitude. "I do not know how I could ever repay you."

"I will accept your gratitude gladly, and if you would repay me, then do it by not speaking on my behalf to the Emperor."

"Why?" Shang was clearly genuinely baffled. "You have a bright future in the army, Ping, like your father before you – "

"I have no aspirations for a future in the army. I only went to war because my father cannot. But now that the war is won, I would return to him, Shang. My parents are no longer young, and there is my grandmother too. I cannot abandon them. Surely you understand that?"

For the first time during the conversation, Mulan turned her head to look him in the eye. It was Mulan who spoke these words, not Ping, and she knew Shang understood. Raised in a military family, loyalty to country and filial piety were values that Shang would know well.

"I am an only child. My father did not groom me for the army in his footstep, as you could well tell from the first day," she said, when Shang did not answer. This was not a lie. "But Heaven has a way to up-ending our plans, and I find myself here anyway. You have done your duties to country and to family both. I have only done the former. It is time I return to my family for the latter."

Shang heaved a sigh beside her. "Neither of us have done our duties to family, Ping, not when currently both our family lines end with us. I suppose after all this settles, it is time to think of marriage, but for me, that could be done anywhere. You are right. You need to return to your family, to your hometown. Excuse me for not seeing it. I have less to tie me to a place than you."

He was speaking to her as a man to another man, the sharing of burdens and duties that awaited them both. It was a conversation between friends. For a moment, Mulan almost allowed herself to consider how it could turn into a quite different conversation altogether. The moment vanished as fast as it came, however. To make any move in that direction required telling Shang the truth, and no one could know the truth. If anything, after everything Shang done to help her survive thus far, and for all the faith he placed in her, she could not repay him by asking him to commit the most heinous crime of all.

"Very well," Shang said. "However I will only promise to not ask the Emperor for a position for you. You will not talk me out of recognising for your deeds where it is due. I will make sure the Emperor is aware that I did not win the war single-handedly, Ping, and neither will I allow that spineless coward to degrade your accomplishments as he undoubtedly would attempt to."

Mulan looked quickly around, in case Chi-Fu was near and had overheard, but thankfully, he was quite a distance behind.

She knew it would be hard to persuade Shang to do any less than this. It was that fairness that made him great at his job, and so she did not try to discourage him any further. It would only invite suspicion. She could only hope that after the token praises, she could soon be on her way back home.

It was only later, when Chi-Fu had called to Shang (it was more like a summon) to talk about some administrative matter or other, that Mulan remembered that Mushu was in her collar all this time and had heard her conversation with Shang. It was hard to not notice now, when he put up a veritable fuss at what he thought was Mulan refusing the glories that was their – but mostly _his_ – due.

"Be quiet, Mushu," Mulan hissed. "I just want to get home and never think of the army again."

"But – but – but you'll lose all your friends."

Mulan wondered if Mushu really cared that she would lose her friendship with Yao, Ling, or Chien-Po or that was just a cheap way of trying to persuade her to stay. Though, she could not help wonder, what would she stay for?

It didn't matter, though because it could not be any other way. They were never meant to be friends in the first place, anyway.

"Mushu, you know that staying in the army would only invite the possibility that one day someone would discover my secret. Do you know what the consequences are?"

Apparently, even Mushu did, because he shut up after that.

* * *

Mulan knelt then rose to her feet in front of the Emperor, her head bowed. She wondered whether in all his power, the Dragon Eyes saw through her secret. She tried to make herself as small and insignificant as possible, speaking very little and even then only what was required. It was perhaps for the best that very little speaking was expected of her as well. The Emperor was too busy praising Shang for his killing Shan-Yu, despite Chi-Fu standing petulantly nearby. Even Chi-Fu, however, could not think of a way to belittle what Shang had done. It was all for the best, because amidst Shang's accomplishments, the soldiers who helped him were praised as well, but were never the centre of the Emperor's attention.

After the praises and bestowing Shang-Yu's sword to Shang, the Emperor moved to give condolences about Shang's father.

Really, it was all very predictable and slightly tedious.

Still, it did not change the fact that she stood there now, and when the time came, allowed Shang to introduce her as Fa Ping, son of Fa Zhou. As she stood, in borrowed armour, she was lying to the Emperor's face.

Names of possible punishments for such crime ran through her head in rapid succession, ending with the execution of nine generations of her family. Mulan tried not to shiver.

After the Emperor expectedly promoted Shang to General, despite Chi-Fu's feeble protests, the new General Li proceeded to request the Emperor to promote Yao to the position of Captain.

This request was met with unchecked exclamation of surprise from everyone except the Emperor and Mulan. Even Chi-Fu seemed to have expected Shang to place this favour on Fa Ping.

"But – " Yao stammered, staring from Shang to Mulan, apparently never expecting this for himself. Then he trailed off, as clearly it dawned on him how it looked for him to protest against his superior's judgement.

"Do you have something to say, Soldier?" the Emperor asked.

Yao knelt down. "I would like to express my enormous gratitude to Your Majesty and the General for this great honour, but I do not feel that I am worthy. This honour should go to Fa Ping. General Li will certainly tell Your Majesty how it was Ping's courage and quick-thinking that allowed us to be victorious at the Tung Shao Pass."

The Emperor turned to Li Shang.

"I do not dare to keep information from Your Majesty," Shang said solemnly. "I was planning to convey to Your Majesty of Fa Ping's great deeds at the Tung Shao Pass after this. Liu Yao speaks true, which is testament to his integrity and shows he is worthy of the post I have so daringly yet humbly requested for him."

"And yet your choice for a promotion is not the soldier who both you and your now-intended captain admit have achieved such great heroic acts?"

"It is Fa Ping's wish that I do not nominate him, Your Majesty. I owe him much on this campaign, we all do, and so it is only right that I respect his wishes," Shang replied.

Mulan knew the Emperor would turn to her soon, and braced herself for the questions that would come.

"Why have you asked this of General Li, Fa Ping?"

Mulan knelt. "In humble reply to Your Majesty, the General and Liu Yao's praises are too great. I have done nothing that is so much greater than what was expected of me as a soldier serving to protect Your Majesty's people and nation. I have done everything that anyone else would have done in service of Your Majesty and would gladly do it all over and again if the nation has needs of me. However, with the war over, I desire nothing more to return to my parents to be the filial child, to care for them in their old age. If I may ask of a reward at all, I humbly request of Your Majesty allow me to convey all the best wishes upon You and my comrades, and permit me to return home as soon as may be."

There was an extended silence, as Mulan kept her eyes directed downwards.

"Your filial piety is to be commended," the Emperor finally replied. "Loyalty, filial piety, propriety and righteousness are virtues our society hold most dear. Fa Zhou has taught you well."

Mulan only touched her head to the ground to acknowledge the praise.

There was another short pause, before, thankfully, the Emperor finally said, "Very well. If that is your only wish, it shall be granted."

There was another touch of head to the ground, this time, accompanied by a murmur of thanks.

* * *

Saying goodbye was hard, especially when for her, it was goodbye forever. Her friends, however, all threatened to visit her at home after they have already returned to their own homes and spent some time with their families. Mulan knew, as soon as she was home, Ping would no longer exist. She wasn't sure what her family told the village of her absence all these months, but she also knew she could receive her friends at home neither as Ping nor as Mulan. It was bad enough that she lived these months of lie on the road; she could never further risk the safety of her family by living the lie at home as well.

At least, she was forewarned, and it would be some time yet before her friends could come and see her. In the mean time, she would have to come up with a way to deal with them when they did come.

The long journey home was somber and quiet. Even Mushu did not speak much, and for that, she was thankful.

Mulan found herself caught up in confusing bundle of emotions. She was glad that home was in sight, but could not help the feeling of grief that shrouded her. Before she left for war, she didn't know how she could ever do her duties to her family when she had failed so miserably in the only thing that was ever demanded of her – to make a good impression in front of the matchmaker so that she might be given a good marriage. For a while, she had played dress up and been Fa Ping, but returning now, she was to be Mulan again.

Sometimes, now, Mulan wished she had died in battle. Then all of her would be left there – Ping and Mulan both.

It would have been such peace, to sink into the ground like rain, like thousands of other lives that were lost in the service of their country. Then at least, you would know, even if for just a moment, your life had purpose, that you have fulfilled what you were brought to earth for.

Now, she was returning home, where Mulan's roles, duties and responsibilities have not changed, but Ping was now an undeletable part of her. She wasn't sure she knew how to create a balance between the two, or whether she even should. Ping only ever existed at war, and it was there he should stay.

As she neared the edge of the village, she sent Khan home on his own first. Riding in on Khan would only draw attention to her, and it was the last thing Mulan wished for. She walked the rest of the way home, careful to keep her head down. She supposed it wasn't that necessary, since few people would recognise her now if they should see her in rather old and worn men's clothes. A wide-brimmed straw hat covered her face; her skin was so tanned by the sun and chapped by the wind in such way that would make her mother despair.

She didn't realise how the arrival of Khan, alone, would have worried her family until she appeared at the gate. She stood in the threshold and looked into the courtyard and saw her mother huddled in her father's embrace, crying, and her grandmother sitting, her eyes closed, nearby, with an expression of anguish on her face.

As she stepped into her childhood home, her father looked up and squinted at her. "May I help you?"

"Baba, it's me!" she cried, wiping off the hat that covered her face.

Her mother made such a cry of relief that Mulan had never heard before, and honestly hoped she would never be so worried that she would make such sound again. Before she knew it, Mulan was kneeling on the stone ground of the courtyard, with her parents and grandmother all beside her, their arms thrown around her and each other. She couldn't be sure whether the tears that wet her cheeks were hers or theirs.

"I thought you'd died!" her mother cried, cupping her face in her hands. "When Khan galloped into the yard, I thought – "

"I'm sorry," Mulan cried, only now realising how much she'd missed them all. "I'm sorry."

There was nothing else to say. There was too much to feel. Even her grandmother, usually so boisterous, could only shed muted tears of relief. Her father, as was his wont, did not say much, but the expression that shined in his eyes when he looked at her was one of wonder, as if he could not believe that she not only survived the war, but survived it with her secret intact.

It all filled Mulan with guilt, this pure relief that radiated from them. She knelt before her parents and grandmother and begged them to scold her, to punish her for the worry and grief she must have caused them all these months. She would never have done it any differently, of course, not when her father would never have survived the war if she had not gone in his place. She would not have even regretted if she had lost her life on the battlefield. However, it did not change that for months and months they worried over her, and it showed in the gaunt look on her father's face, the way her mother clung to her like she would never let go, and the uncharacteristically quiet looks of wonder her grandmother directed her way, as if she still could not believe that Mulan had come back.

Mulan wished they would censure her; it would make her feel slightly better. However, they only took her into their arms and professed their joy that she was back, safe and sound.

* * *

Learning to be a soldier and a man was hard work. Re-learning to be a woman was even worse.

The soft fabric of women's clothes felt strange on her skin, now rough from wind and snow. The shoes pinched and she had to remind herself to take daintier steps before she tripped on the cumbersome trains and sashes that weren't a part of a soldier's wardrobe.

She no longer could sleep on the soft mattress, and for a long time, slept on the stone floor of her bedchamber instead. Even then, the lack of snores from neighbouring tents, the quietness of her home, without the whistle of wind through tent flaps, all made it hard to fall asleep. Then there were nights when her sleep was disturbed at the slightest noise – a remnant of army training. There were other nights when the war resumed in her dreams and only ended again when she startled awake in cold sweat.

It was impossible to hide it all from her mother's sharp eyes, but as much as her mother fretted, Mulan knew there was nothing she could do. Mulan did, however, came to appreciate the concern more than she ever did before. She didn't think she ever truly appreciated how much she needed her mother until she was left to survive in a camp full of soldiers on her own.

So she complained little as her mother clucked over damages that could be salvaged instead: the state of her complexion, her chapped hands and her hair which felt like straw. That was even before anything could be said of her nails. It was all of a bother, all those months of trying to disguise her girly hands in order to not draw attention to herself, now she was supposed to somehow get them back?

She managed to hide the scars on her body for a few days longer, but it could never be forever. Her mother's reaction to those was a mixture of a mother's pain and a more practical worry of what these imperfections would do to her future prospects at marriage – never high to begin with. Mulan tried to explain, as best as she could, that it was impossible to avoid injuries during training, and it was a miracle she managed to keep hers minor enough to never have to seek the help of the army physician and blow her cover in the process. However, because she had to treat her injuries herself (with the help of a miniature dragon and cricket, no less), even the scrapes that, treated with more medical knowledge, should not have left scars, ended up leaving their marks anyway. They were not gruesome – the injuries were never bad enough for that – but they were scars, nonetheless.

* * *

Sometimes, she walked the garden and marveled in the sights that she never stopped to admire before, when death was far away and life seemed like it would be with her, always.

At other times, she stopped and wondered why any of this mattered, when with a sweep of the sword, your life could end under someone else's hand. One moment there, the next you could be gone.

* * *

Yao, Ling, Chien-Po, and even Shang came looking for Ping, as they had promised. She hid behind the doors of her chamber, listening to her parents in the courtyard telling her friends that Ping had gone to visit a relative in a village far away and there was no way to know when he would be back. Her friends went cheerily away with promises that they would come again.

They would write, occasionally, and Mulan had to resist the urge to reply. To reply would only encourage them to visit again, and she could not avoid questions of when would be a suitable time forever. Yet, they were nothing if not stubborn, and would not be happy to allow her to burn her bridges. When she determinedly refused to answer any letter that came to her, they visited again, and this time, her parents waved them off with an excuse that Ping had contracted a contagious disease on his travels and could not have visitors.

Eventually, the disease would kill Ping, and Mulan would mourn him with her friends, but separately. It was a necessary sacrifice, however, and one she had anticipated since saying goodbye to them in the capital city.

* * *

At war, she never had a moment to herself. At home, she had too much of it. There was no one to talk to who would understand all that she had been through. Mushu, the only soul who saw her entire journey, had returned to a stone slumber now that his job of protecting her was finished. Even then, how much madder would she seem if she spent her time seeking the counsel of a tiny dragon?

Behind the tall red walls that separated her chambers from the rest of the world, she found herself thinking of duties.

A soldier's duty was to obey, to serve: the country and the Emperor.

A woman's duty was also to obey, to serve: her family.

She had done the duty of the soldier, and now her mother urged her to head towards the duty of a woman instead. Yet she could not deny that right at that moment, the soldier was still a part of her, no matter how much her mother tried to convince her to let go. (She wished she _could_ let go so easily.) For the time being, when this was added on top of everything else, she was as unmarriageable as ever.

Yet she also knew how the future would go. As impossible as it seemed, a match would somehow be found for her. It would not be as glamorous as one might hope for, but would be enough to make do (her father's name still held some weight in the village, thankfully). When it was decided, she would be the dutiful daughter and accept. Wasn't that how the Three Obediences went? In childhood, obey your father. In marriage, obey your husband. In widowhood, obey your son. One by one, through these three, she would make her way.

And perhaps, one day, if she were lucky, she would be able to shed way the soldier within her, and forget what a sword felt like in her hand, and surrender herself to the fate that she was always meant to take.

If she were unlucky, and the soldier refused to leave…well, Mulan didn't want to think of that, at all.

* * *

_End_


End file.
